


A Fable

by Unsentimentalf



Category: Robin Hood BBC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The Sheriff could hang them both if he found proof of what Allan  had inadvertently let slip.  If he didn't Gisborne almost certainly would kill Allan.  Just when things had been going well.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fable

Title: A Fable  
Author: Unsentimental Fool  
Fandom: BBC Robin Hood  
Pairing: Allan/Guy/Sheriff  
Rating: NC 17.   
Word Count: 2000  
Summary: _The Sheriff could hang them both if he found proof of what Allan had inadvertently let slip. If he didn't Gisborne almost certainly would kill Allan. Just when things had been going well._   
Notes/Warnings:A short fic because I felt like writing some Sheriff. As ever, it turned out darker than I'd intended.

Guy was still dressing when Allan walked quietly into the man's bedchambers shortly after dawn. Hard not to be distracted by bare chest, muscled arms but Allan tried, looking out of the window at the village below, concentrating on his instructions

"I need to go across to Derby today." Guy bent down to lace his boots and Allan glanced his way, bit back a sigh. "There's someone coming over from Blackford Friary to discuss their taxes. You can deal with it. No less than 200 silver pieces a year and no more than a third in kind. Details are up to you."

"I can do that, no problem." To his surprise, Allan had found that responsibility suited him. He'd acted for Gisborne, first in small things, then larger, becoming the man's second in all but name. He was good at this, administration, negotiation, and Gisborne knew it. In the forest...in the forest he'd been another outlaw, carrying out Robin's orders, watching Robin get the credit. He might be Gisborne's man, but here he was also his own and he liked that.

" If there's still time, go into Nottingham and have a sharp word with the butcher who sent over yesterday's meat. The cook tells me he had to give some of of it to the dogs.."

"Fine. When will you get back?"

"Hopefully before dark, maybe tomorrow morning." Guy picked up his shirt, glanced at Allan, dropped it back over the back of the chair. "While you're here..." His hands were at the knots of his breeches. Allan nodded, feeling his heartbeat quicken, as he slipped his own breeches down to his ankles. Guy gestured to the edge of the bed. "Bend over, then."

Allan bent over obediently, resting one elbow on the counterpane, spitting surreptitiously on the other hand. Behind him Gisborne was applying grease, pushing hard inside him. Allan took a breath, held it, dropped his hand to his own erection and waited. As Guy started to thrust hard, Allan let out the breath, feeling the familiar sensation, half pleasure, half pain, and started to rub in time with the rough jerking. As usual Guy was done far too soon, pulling out without a sound. Allan rolled over, bringing his legs up onto the bed, and concentrated, remembering the sensations of a few moments before. Guy was shrugging his jacket around his shoulders. At the door he turned and looked back at the man panting on the bed. "Don't miss breakfast,".The door closed.

Alone, Allan spat in his palm again, tried to focus. He'd felt those thighs against his; hands around his hip bones...he came at last, on the memory. He washed rapidly in the basin left by the bed and headed down to breakfast in the Great Hall. Guy passed him, ready to go. "I expect everything to go smoothly in my absence." Allan was used to the tone of menace by now. It didn't mean anything. Probably. He'd make sure nothing went wrong anyway.

The morning was uneventful. Allan was sitting down to bread, cheese and meat for lunch (meat twice a day and not always venison; this was the life) when a servant ran into the hall, "The Sheriff is here!"

Hell. Allan pushed away his plate, stood up and bowed civilly to the man entering the hall with half a dozen guards. "He's not here." he said, helpfully.

"I can see that." The Sheriff was approaching like a half startled bird, in little hops. A dangerous little bird; he'd near killed Allan on a whim, and Allan knew it could happen again.

"I came to find Gisborne and I find." The man was leaning over the table towards him, voice dropping, "Gisborne's boy. Well?"

"Err, well what?"

"WHERE IS HE?" Allan forced himself not to cringe away from the volume.

"Derby. On business."

"Business?" The Sheriff was aggrieved. "Not my business. He has no right to absent himself on private business." He looked around the hall. "Who is in charge here?"

"I am." Allan grinned. See how the Sheriff liked that.

"You are?" Pantomime astonishment. "Gisborne's pet turncoat? He must be mad. I wouldn't trust you to sweep out my stables."

"Hey!" Allan's pride was hurt. "Giz trusts me, I tell you. We're very close."

It was a mistake, he knew, as soon as he'd said the word. The Sheriff had been playing with the silver dish in from of him, nibbling at what was left of Allan's lunch but his head whipped up to stare at Allan.

"Close? Is that so?"

"Friends, like." Allan tried. The Sheriff shook his head. "Noooo. I don't think so. Dear Gisborne doesn't have friends. Not the friendly type. Too insecure, poor man.

"I think I need to talk to you, boy. In private."

This was trouble, big trouble. The Sheriff could hang them both if he found proof of what Allan had inadvertently let slip. If he didn't Gisborne almost certainly would kill Allan. Just when things had been going well. To deny everything seemed to be the only option.

Allan led the way to Guy's solar, trying not to glance towards the door to the adjoining bedroom. The Sheriff followed him in, closed the door firmly.

"So. You and Guy have been playing little games in bed, have you?"

"No!" Allan did his best impression of appalled. "That's disgusting- I wouldn't do that. Nor." he added, in a sudden fit of loyalty, "would Guy."

The Sheriff shook his head, slowly. "Take your clothes off. Let's see what tempted him."

"I can't do that!" Allan retreated to the back of the room.

"Two things, dear boy. First, I have two guards outside the door who would be happy to come in and strip you naked for me. I doubt that those pretty clothes would survive the process. Second, if you don't co-operate I'll see both you and Gisborne executed for sodomy."

Allan shook his head. "But we didn't- there's no proof."

The Sheriff grinned."How many of Guy's servants like him enough to turn down silver for a testimony? How many of his guards have you kicked aside in your rapid ascent to the man's favourite? Proof will not be difficult, I assure you. Now be a good boy and strip."

"We didn't do anything." Allan muttered, but he began to remove his clothes under the Sheriff's interested gaze. His bad feeling was getting worse all the time.

"So tell me." The Sheriff sat down on a chair, rocked backwards, enjoying Allan' s discomfiture. "What do you do with this lover of yours?"

"Don't do anything." Allan's voice was a dull whisper.

"Come now. All I need to do is shout," the Sheriff chanted cheerfully, tipping his head sideways. "Help this man is seducing me!" This in a high pitched whisper. "And you'll be on the gallows long before your lover gets back from Leicester."

"Derby." Allan was defeated and knew it.

"So what do you do."

"He screws me." Allan dropped his jacket to the floor.

"And?"

"And" he gestured, appallingly embarrassed. "You know."

"I'm afraid I don't." The Sheriff grinned, entirely comfortable. "Do enlighten me."

"I suck." He couldn't go on.

"You suck what, dear boy? A lollipop? In bed?"

Allan sighed "His cock, sometimes."

"Ah. And he reciprocates?"

"You what?" Allan hadn't heard of that, but it sounded filthy.

"Turn and turn about; our Guy on his leather clad knees, maybe? Yes?"

Despite his misery Allan felt a twitch at the mental picture, "No."

"So what does he do, for your benefit as it were?" The Sheriff waved fingers expressively.

"He doesn't mind if I do" he gestured again, "while he's doing his thing."

Allan had undressed to his breeches; he was hoping that the Sheriff would be content with that. He didn't want to expose his response to this conversation.

"Crumbs from the table. What do you think of that?"

"I'm Gisborne's man." Allan jutted his chin defiantly. "I do what I'm told."

"Yes." the Sheriff leaned forward, "Don't stop undressing, please. You were Hood's man once, weren't you? Changing sides easier a second time, don't you think?"  
Allan slipped out of his breeches. "I'm not betraying him." He watched the other man come towards him, backed up a step against the wall.

"Not betrayal." The Sheriff stretched out a hand to his chest, pushed gently. "He's hardly keeping you satisfied now, is he? I don't want anything else- Gisborne can keep his little secrets. Shall we?"  
He gestured towards the door to the bedroom.

How had he got into this one? Allan dragged his feet into the room, looked, dull eyed, at the bed that he'd come on half a day ago.

"Now Guy would, what, ask you to bend over? And that would be it? No kissy kissy? No thought for your own pleasure? No finesse, that boy. No imagination."

Allan was beginning to think that the man was onto something here, particularly as the Sheriff had moved behind him, one hand splayed over his stomach, the other between his legs. He was getting harder, looking at the bed where Guy had screwed him, feeling the hand moving gently over his balls. It wasn't exactly fair of Gisborne, now, was it? The hand moved from stomach to chest, brushing his nipples. He could feel the clothed body pressed up against his back. He rested his own hands on one post of the bed.

"In and out. You might as well be a serving maid." Fingers closed round his erection, pulled up and down. He couldn't resist a moan.

"So do we have a deal? I get access to your terribly enticing body when Guy isn't using it in his crude way and in return " the voice closed in to his ear "you don't get hanged. You might even have some fun."

Allan nodded. Not like he had a choice and it might even be better this way. The hand slid up and down. "Say yes, do"

"Yes. OK."

"Wonderful. Now I'm going to tell you a story. Do stop me if you've heard it before." Allan had no intention of stopping the Sheriff now. He gasped as fingers pinched a nipple, the other hand still moving,

"There were some frogs in a pool who decided that they needed a king. So they prayed to their God, and he sent them King Log." The man stopped talking long enough to nip an earlobe. "But they didn't like King Log because he just lay there and did nothing. So they demanded another king. Can you see where this is going yet?"

Allan really couldn't. He wasn't concentrating on the words anyway.

"No? Oh well, maybe it's a little sophisticated, a little over your head. I'll go on anyway. This time they were sent King Stork. And he ate them all up."

Just don't stop moving; there was something about the Sheriff's story but Allan was too close to coming to understand.

"Unlike Gisborne, I care about what you feel." The grip on his nipple was suddenly appallingly tight. He twisted in agony as he ejaculated. Released, he collapsed on the bed, nauseous, his hand around his torn and bleeding nipple. The Sheriff was looking down at him, grinning.

"All those bits of your education that Guy is neglecting. Chains, for instance. Whips. I'm going to enjoy this."

He walked to the window. "You have guests arriving. I'd better get out of your way, hadn't I? We'll have fun again, soon enough."

Allan was watching him in misery.

"And don't bother complaining to King Log about this. He won't save you. Who do you think taught him not to feel?"

He walked out. Allan dragged himself into the other room in search of his clothes. The monk from the friary was riding through the gates. Time to work. For a moment he remembered the forest with acute homesickness.

This was home now. Gisborne and the Sheriff. He wanted to cry. Instead he adjusted his jacket and went downstairs to greet his guest.


End file.
